


Weight

by rey_exe



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Doggy Style, Dry Humping, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fingerfucking, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Masturbation in Shower, Miscommunication, Sexual Tension, Size Difference, Touch Aversion, Touch-Starved, harold they're soulmates, rey and ben are bad at feelings, the cuddle/touch therapy au we deserve in these trying times
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:33:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22484863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rey_exe/pseuds/rey_exe
Summary: “Okay... You’d like a massage first?”“Of course, that is why I’m here.” It comes out sharply, dark eyes snapping onto her like a whip and Rey nearly flinches away from it.The color drains from her face then, horror prickling the hair at the back of her neck as what he says begins to sink in. “I–– uh, I’m sorry, there seems to be some sort of misunderstanding. I’m not a massage therapist.” Rey winces the second the words are out, preparing for the explosion she’s sure is building beneath the surface of him.TLDR:Hux tricks Kylo into seeing a cuddle therapist, Rey throws ethics out the window, spicy shenanigans ensue.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 53
Kudos: 151





	1. life's suddenly faraway, no mistaking, it could be you

**Author's Note:**

> HOWDY! We are in desperate need of some cuddles in this fandom as of late. This baby’s been in the works for a solid year and a half now. While this will be delightful and smutty, the subject matter is very near to my heart. Touch aversion is something I’ve struggled with for well over a decade and it’s not something that should be taken lightly in real life. If this is an issue you struggle with as well, I encourage you to seek help from a therapist and definitely do not engage in any of the potentially harmful activities our lil dyad disasters do. 
> 
> This is sort of my “coping” fic, a way to explore and channel certain feelings that I myself experience with touch aversion. I’m definitely taking creative liberties here so I’ll be linking resources at the bottom of the page if touch aversion and cuddle therapy are things you’re interested in learning more about.

I know you want me  
But I've come close enough for now  
Oh God, you haunt me  
I'm scared you'll leave me in the ground

[Weight - **Crywolf**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OaLjF5w88-w)

The heady scent of spices and citrus billow cheerfully from the oil diffuser in the corner of the room. It’s nearly hidden by a jungle of greenery that had just about taken over every square inch of floor and wall space. Bright winter sun filters in through leaves that hung by the fogged up windows, which were kept resolutely shut. She had an air purifier tucked away in another part of the room and it would defeat its purpose entirely if she allowed the smog to slither in. 

There is a contented smile spread across Rey’s lips as she unfolds the cushy pallet across the floor. The whistle of her electric tea kettle across mingles with the zen instrumental playlist she had popped on upon arrival. Her newest client would be arriving any moment and her inner perfectionist was running rampant.

It had started out as a joke, this profession. 

She and Finn had been in the middle of a Netflix binge, sprawled together across his futon. The day had been long and taxing and that’s just how they ended up. His head was tucked beneath her chin, lounging back against her chest in the circle of her arms. They traded off every couple of episodes –– Rey curling into his side like a cat with his strong fingers massaging her scalp, Finn with his cheek squished against her outer thigh. One season of The Great British Bake-Off and they’d practically invented a new series of low resistance yoga poses.

“You should be a professional cuddler...” Finn had mumbled drowsily into her hair at some point, to which Rey let out a sharp cackle, telling him that she’d put that on her Tinder profile.

Just days later a very specifically curated video popped up on her Facebook feed as she numbly scrolled through pages of political vitriol and baby pictures — like Finn was some sort of prophet or Big Brother really was watching. She found herself watching it nonplussed, regarding the man who made absolute  _ bank _ from snuggling strangers.

_ Of course _ it was an actual real life thing, why wouldn’t it be?

Rey had laughed about it with Finn, like she hadn’t bookmarked and watched the video half a dozen times. The seed had taken root. No matter how hard she tried to reclaim her focus, this concept would not allow her to stray far.

It was a fantastic idea, though she despised the thought of capitalizing off of such basic affection from desperate people. She’d be a person that kept her rates low, if she was crazy enough to do it.

Even Poe –– Finn’s boyfriend –– had agreed that it was a very real form of therapy at dinner one night (though not before wheezing over his plate of spaghetti until he realized she was serious) It was not one he had personally taken part in upon his discharge, not unless you counted Finn. 

“Rose mentioned it during the adoption process,” he’d said through a mouthful of pasta, “Since Bea is trained in deep pressure therapy we started chatting about weighted blankets and shit and she brought it up.”

Rey had hung off his every word, nodding sagely with her fork hovering somewhere in the vicinity of her face. Rose was the head of a service dog organization, one that specialized in helping veterans. Poe had served with her sister Paige, who had inspired this particular endeavor after her tragic death. 

“Do you need a degree for it?” 

Poe had lost it again, of course. “You gonna get a Bachelor’s in cuddling, baby girl? If you need help with homework you know Finn, Bea and I are available.” Okay, it was funny. But how was she supposed to know? Everything required a hefty degree from a school that would never accept the likes of her. “But seriously though, I don’t think so? There are rules and shit, companies and seminars you can attend, but it’s not like being a shrink. Not to my knowledge anyway.”

So down the rabbit hole of Google she’d fallen, devouring every bit of information she could get her hands on. The advantages went beyond anything she’d previously though, even from the little think piece video. It was beyond that dopamine high that came with contact. It was healing...

Rey could personally attest every single benefit, having experienced every one of them on her unwitting journey with Finn. 

As an orphan, she’d never known a pair of hands to be kind. The day Finn had taken hers had been agony. A beautiful, terrible burn that she couldn’t get enough of. As someone who thrived off of touch and was patient and loyal to a fault, meeting Finn had been a godsend. He was quick to learn what she could handle and cared so deeply for her that together they had worked through every hurdle she faced until the day she could throw her arms around him with ease.

With his aid, she’d uncovered a fraction of herself she never knew existed. One that could touch and play and joke where she hadn’t before. Rey found herself draping her slender frame across his back as he made coffee, curling up for a catnap at the end of the day, holding his hands as they spoke. 

Unlike this therapy, none of this had been plotted out in advance. They never discussed their course of action. They simply fell together and went with the flow. 

That had opened them up to scrutiny, of course. Everyone and their aunt asking when the wedding was and gleefully informing them how beautiful their children would be. It was impossible to explain the concept of platonic soulmates to people without them going gooey eyed. He was her best friend and her confidant, an orphan like her and a man who fought to make a better life for himself. Their relationship was transcendent and needed no formal title. 

Simple touch. She couldn’t believe how robbed she felt until it was finally received. 

If she could grant this vital human experience to others who were starving, she felt as though it would fulfill some cosmic purpose for her life. Or fill that void that existed in her heart, at the very least.

Not a day after her conversation with Poe and Finn, Rey had signed up with a group that called themselves Weight. It was run by an older woman named Mon Mothma and started sometime in the 70’s. Fitting, Rey supposed. But it had blossomed beautifully over the decades and Rey was taken by their specific philosophies.

The courses weren’t inexpensive, at least by her standards. She also had to account for the fact that she’d need a place of business. Though he wouldn’t have minded, Rey wouldn’t subject Finn to a bunch of strangers inhabiting their home at all hours of the day.

To afford the certification process, the tiny studio space,  _ and _ the goods to furnish it with, she’d pulled her hours at Plutt’s auto shop and begged Maz for a part time position at her little dive bar. 

A grueling two years later Rey had succeeded. 

Two years of learning and perfecting poses and variants of each one. How to deal with people on an interpersonal level. She was a rising star in their little community. Mon Mothma had even coached her personally when Rey had popped up on her radar. They spoke on Skype for hours until the time zone that separated them demanded that she rest.

“In a few more years you could have my job, Rey! And I’d be willing to give it to you, too.” Mon’s eyes had twinkled as she leaned towards her webcam. “You’re exactly the type of person I had in mind when I started this.”

That alone made the grueling hours she had put in worth it. That, and her new clients. She’d met them all at the center Mon owned in Manhattan. They’d volunteered to give feedback as she honed the craft and each of them had walked away booked for every week that month.

She had used the center until Poe, Finn, and Rose had scoped out a decent location with far less crime than she was used to in her own neighborhood. The building was sound, almost quaint with neat red brick walls, unmarred by graffiti. Her space was on the third floor and offered no spectacular view to speak of; thus the decent price, she guessed. She had filled it with all of the things that made her happy and that would transport her clients to a space beyond the harsh and chaotic city.

Clients were mostly word of mouth for the first six months and strictly vetted within the community to assure the safety of all parties. Finn had the nerve to scheduled a handful of appointments, half as a joke, and even had the nerve to pay her.

For the first time in her life, Rey felt like she was doing something right.

At least until that day.

December 3rd at 1:59PM, to be precise. 

A sharp rap on the door breaks Rey’s concentration. Throwing one last pillow into the sea of decorative throws and cushions, she nearly skips across the room, socked feet skidding to a halt before the door.

A man named Hux had called to set up an appointment for his boss, Kylo Ren, the previous week. It wasn’t unusual to receive calls on the behalf of others. Phone anxiety was quite common, which is why she’d set up a scheduling system on her website. Hux had a very lengthy list of demands for her though, all of which Rey took into consideration, jotting each down in her Pokemon-themed notepad.

TLC was the gist of it. He was a lonely and socially awkward man that would require all of her charm. Hux wove a story of a man who was overworked and had little in the way of friends or affection. Someone with more money than he knew what to do with. Hux had wired her payment in advance and thanked her profusely before hanging up. 

The laughter in his voice should have clued her in that something was off. She’d thought he’d just been happy to be doing something nice for his boss...

Behind the frosted glass stands a man… Or a bear, she really couldn’t tell. The broad shoulders of the being beyond, as well as his considerable height, nearly blotted out the light from the hall.

She throws the door open wide, ready to offer him her usual spiel when welcoming new clients, but they freeze on her tongue, as does her luminous grin, like the draft he let in had turned her to ice.

God, he’s beautiful… Even with the dour expression plastered across his face.

Rey had spooned, cuddled, and nuzzled what felt like an infinite number of people over the last year. Some of them were quite attractive by society's standards. Rey was rarely impressed or gobsmacked by any of them. As she stared up at the man outside her door, Rey found herself completely speechless. So much so in fact that it was clear that she was making her client uncomfortable. 

“Uh, are you Rey?”

Jesus Christ. If she wasn’t she might have considered lying her face off. His voice was like butter melting in the sun.  __

Rey clears her throat in an attempt to dislodge the bubble of manic giggle that threatens to work its way past her lips “I – yes I am. I’m Rey Johnson. You must be Mister Ren.” She tries to thaw her rigid smile as she ushers him into the studio, holding out a hand to take his expensive-looking peacoat. 

He doesn’t return the smile, dropping the garment carelessly into her arms as he strides past her. Damn, it even  _ felt _ expensive. She doesn’t know much about fashion, but any idiot could look at a label and recognize  _ that _ brand. His cologne clung to the wool and it was warm where it had hugged his body. Her lizard brain demands that she bury her nose in the thick fabric and inhale but she resists. 

“That’s a strange looking setup.” He informs her rudely, waving a hand towards the heap on the floor.

Rey has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep an equally rude retort from her tongue. “It works.”

He ignores her, walking further into the room, shiny loafers clicking against the hardwood until he stands before the ocean of pillows. His expression is so critical as he looks around the room that Rey feels small and shameful. She can’t keep the blush from her cheeks as she hangs up his coat. It didn’t matter what he thought, he was here for a reason. He’d accept his surroundings or he’d take his leave. The possibility of the latter made her stomach clench anxiously.

“I’ve been having some neck pain the last month or so. We focus on that and go from there.” he finally says, turning his hulking frame to face her. His expression hasn’t changed an iota from the grim disinterest he’d walked in with. 

Rey quirks her head curiously. That wasn’t anything like what his associate had told her on the phone the other day. Of course that meant very little; people’s needs changed. Some clients would plan out their appointments with precise details and end up chatting over tea when they finally arrived... But Mr. Hux had been  _ very _ adamant that she do her utmost to make sure he felt affection. “Okay... You’d like a massage first?”

“Of course, that  _ is _ why I’m here.” It comes out sharply, dark eyes snapping onto her like a whip and Rey nearly flinches away from it.

The color drains from her face then, horror prickling the hair at the back of her neck as what he says begins to sink in. “I–– uh, I’m sorry, there seems to be some sort of misunderstanding. I’m not a massage therapist.” Rey winces the second the words are out, preparing for the explosion she’s sure is building beneath the surface of him.

Like his worst fears were confirmed, Mister Ren lets out a beastial snarl, shoving a massive hand into the pocket of his blazer to fish out his phone. “Fucking Hux, I knew something was off…  _ I knew it _ .” he seethes. “What ARE you, exactly?”

She bristles at his tone, taking a sharp step away from him as his presence seemed to expand in his ire. It fills every corner of the studio like a noxious black cloud. “I am a  _ type _ of physical therapist…” Rey chooses her words carefully, torn between not wanting him to leave and slap a bad review on yelp and not wanting to deal with something THIS volatile “A touch therapist.”

“Sounds like prostitution.” Ren growls, his expression suggesting he might just fling himself out of the nearest window if she confirmed this.

Rey feels her hackles rise at that, shoulder going stiff and chin jutting out. Typical male. She ought to kick him out this instant for the look on his face alone. “Not that there would be anything wrong with that if I was… No, I’m not. I said  _ touch _ , not sex.”

He remains silent, waiting for her to continue with lips pressed tight together.

Rey sighs deeply.

“Platonic human touch is vital to our existence. Some people out there aren’t able to receive the touch they need to thrive, which is where I come in.” She’s trying not to outright say the word she dreads. The one she fears will invalidate every single thing she says. It’ll send another tidal wave of derision her way and for some godforsaken reason, Rey doesn’t want that from him. She wants this stranger to understand that her job isn’t something to be laughed at. “I hold people and let them talk to me, if that’s what they want. I have a few clients that just want to nap while I play with their hair---.”

“–– So you’re a… A _ cuddle therapist. _ ” He interjects with a grunt, mumbling the word like he’s afraid someone will pop up behind him and laugh. Rey nearly winces

“In layman’s term,  _ yes _ . I prefer the term alternative touch therapist, though.” Rey tells him testily, crossing her arms over her chest.

“How very PC of you…” He lets out a snort of distaste and runs a hand over his face. “God, this is a fucking nightmare!” 

She feels bad for him then, and insulted too, of course. It was apparent now that Hux was trying to play some horrible trick on the man to embarrass him, and it had worked. 

“Listen… I do massages too. I might be able to help you out there.” She offers hesitantly in an attempt to salvage the situation. “The client runs the show here. If you want a back rub, you’ll get a back rub. If you want me to play with your hair and read you poetry, I can do that too. You’ve got nothing to lose. After all, the session is paid for.”

Why it’s so important to her that he stays, she can’t even begin to fathom. His menacing aura could just about kill her plants and peel the flesh from her bones as he glares down at her. Rey keeps her face neutral and open, though.

Ren lets out a huff of irritation a full twenty seconds later, leaning down to yank off his pristine black loafers. Next comes his blazer, tossed with unnecessary force onto a tiny futon. Rey’s eyes are greedy as she takes in the thick muscle that tugs at the cotton of his button down. She envisions wrapping her arms around his shoulders and wonders if her fingers would touch...

Without a word, he slowly sinks down onto the pallet, looking so incredibly out of place amongst the brocade pillows she has to bite back a smile. He’s so large he takes up the entire space, blinking up at her with distrustful expectation.

“I’m not going to behead you, you don’t have to look at me like that.” She shouldn’t tease him, but he was scowling so hard the words were out before she could stop them.

He lets out a snort that could be a laugh. Only when the set of his mouth softens does she move forward. 

Rey walks around him, kneeling at his back, suddenly nervous. She doesn’t let it show in her voice, though. “I’m going to touch your neck now, is that alright?” She wishes that he was the cuddling type. His black hair was so glossy in the weak afternoon sun she nearly throws caution to the wind and runs her fingers through it. That would most definitely send him packing, she was sure. 

“Obviously.” Came the reply. 

Ren’s body language suggests otherwise as her hands meet the nape of his neck. He flinches so hard Rey nearly pulls away. He grunts at her to get on with it and it takes nearly ten full minutes to loosen the muscles beneath her fingers. Every inch of muscle is wound so tight it was a wonder he could move at all.

As time drags on, Ren begins to relax. Not by much, and so gradually it was like watching grass grow, but Rey could feel it in the lines of his body.

“I’m going to move down to your shoulders now, okay?”

“Fine… Just the back. Not the front.” He sounds more at ease too, much to her delight. The sharp crack of his voice is now distant thunder. It kindles the spark in her chest that had ignited sometime between his arrival and now. 

Rey does as requested, kneading her fingers along his wide shoulder blades. She can’t help but admire him as she works. The pale line of flesh at the nape of his neck is moon bright and speckled with moles. Shame taints that admiration though, knowing she shouldn’t be checking him out and yet unable to stop. Jesus Christ, what was  _ wrong _ with her? 

When she presses against a particularly grim knot of muscle, the man lets out such a deep and drawn out groan that Rey feels her breath catch in her throat. A tiny shiver races down her spine. Her nipples harden under her thin sweater. Thank God he was facing away from her. Why she had forgone a bra that day she’d never fucking know. 

By some miracle her hands don’t falter as she works. The rest of her isn’t so lucky though. She was so close there was no way he hadn’t felt her tremble, and sure enough his voice rumbles from the pillows. “You okay?” he asks. It sends a sharp jolt straight to her cunt.

“Yeah, it’s just a little chilly. Old buildings, you know?” 

Ren hums his response and they settle into silence once more.

Silence that is broken by another groan as she presses along his spine, down to the small of his back. Rey absolutely refuses to acknowledge the growing heat in her belly and between her legs, just as she attempts to ignore the dip of his back and the curve of his ass. She wonders if he has dimples here. If the beauty marks that speckled the back of his neck spread like constellations down his back. If he’d let her trace them with the tips of her fingers. 

This really wasn’t fair.

He wasn’t squirming, not quite, but he was certainly moving. The lower her hands went, the more he would shift, like he couldn’t tell whether he wanted to pull away or get closer. 

Rey can’t pinpoint the exact energy that sizzled between them as she works. Something that kept him rooted to the space beside her. She thinks she understands it, though. Or maybe she doesn’t and she’s simply projecting. 

Blinking hard she pulls herself back into the moment, focusing on the task at hand and refusing to 

As the session comes to a close he’s putty in her hands; almost slack and limp against the pillows. He would still tense if her touch was anything but firm, but she could feel the subtle shift in him. Like cold clay warming under the hands of the potter.

He had been so relaxed, in fact, that Rey had murmured his name a handful of times to make sure he was still with her. Naps were allowed, of course, and occasionally encouraged, but he didn’t seem the type to want to let down his guard that completely.

Rey tries to ignore the hollowness in her chest as Ren lets out a huff and climbs to his feet. His hair and shirt are completely mussed and his expression is rather dazed. Nothing like the keen unkindness he’d kept firmly in place upon arrival. In fact, he seems almost surprised that he isn’t annoyed.

“There, that wasn’t so terrible was it?” Rey says, fixing him with her sun-bright smile as she stands. Ren says nothing as he hastily slips his shoes on and retrieves his blazer and coat. 

She reminds herself that he didn’t want to be there in the first place as her wretched little heart dares to throb in agony. He’d been lured their as a prank and only stayed so he wouldn’t seem suspicious. It was fine.

Not wanting to watch him go, she turns to pour herself some tea. She listens to him slip into his peacoat and tries to drown out the sound with the clink of her spoon against ceramic. It doesn’t work. She still winces hard as the door clicks shut behind him. If she had turned to bid him a proper goodbye like the professional she was supposed to be, Rey would have seen him stop by the door, look back at her, and then surreptitiously slip one of her business cards into the pocket of his jacket on the way out.

  
  
  



	2. I think it every day, if we're the same, the thought could be true

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kylo returns for his second session & things get Hard for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woof this took longer than anticipated. Depression likes to kick my ass between updates I apologize!! This chapter is from Ben’s POV, which has always been a bit of a struggle for me. It also delves deep into the complexity of touch aversion which I’ll discuss more in the notes below. Also pls note that I know very little about law outside of a Suits binge a few years ago and sporadic rewatches of Law & Order. Some research was done but like, pls continue to suspend disbelief if I make any grave errors. And if I somehow don’t, know it was a fluke 😂 
> 
> **CW:** for prescription drug abuse and some brief allusions of unspecified forms of child abuse. 
> 
> A huge thank you to my wonderful beta [Ellie](https://twitter.com/celestiaIrey) and my personal cheerleaders [Chelsea](https://brightrey.tumblr.com/), [Secretreylotrash](https://twitter.com/secretreylo), & [Mihri](https://twitter.com/ADAMFlLMS)!!

  
  


The pads of Kylo’s thumbs press nebulae into his eyes, rubbing them aggressively to alleviate the obnoxious headache that worsened the moment Armitage Hux threw open his office door.

8AM on the dot; coffee and a thick manila folder clutched in his spidery hands. 

That ginger bastard had the nerve to look goddamn  _ perky  _ this morning. Probably out of spite. Hux probably even dabbed some concealer under his eyes to hide the dark circles too, just to show him up.

Kylo had slept  _ terribly _ the night before; every night that week, in fact.

Not that he ever slept particularly  _ well _ . There had always been an intense  _ prickling _ at the back of his neck, ever since he was a child, like eyes peering at him through the ether. Even during his stint in the military it took him ten minutes longer than the rest of his squad to drift off. 

That week sure took the cake though. The…  _ appointment _ somehow left him thrice as wired despite his ever present exhaustion. He tossed and turned every night like his king-sized bed was the treacherous sea and he was helpless to her tides. He’d stopped looking at his Apple Watch, which shamed him upon waking with truly grim stats.

Kylo suppresses a wince as the paperwork is slammed unceremoniously onto his desk with a resounding  **_THUMP_ ** . Throwing himself out of the windows behind him seemed more appealing every passing second.

“Morning, Ren.” Hux drawls in his nasal voice, settling into the chair before him without invitation. “I trust you’re well.” 

The smug smile on the man's lips made Kylo clench his teeth so hard his jaw cracked. Hux had that effect on most people in and out of the office. The man was like a cold draft entering the room. A bad fucking omen. 

Kylo levels a sharp glare in reply, pretending he doesn’t see the thick documents as he leans down to fish through his desk drawer. Inside sits a nondescript orange bottle, from which he frees a couple of pills, slipping them between his lips as Hux drones on about their latest case and swallows it dry. It goes down terribly, of course, and he finds himself coughing until Hux shuts the fuck up and stares at him. 

“Neck still bothering you?” He asks innocently, like watching his coworker choke down a dose of illegal opioids in front of him was a normal happenstance. 

Kylo’s nostrils flare and he purses his lips. “Why do you ask?” 

“No reason…How was your massage?” There’s far too much emphasis on those last few words. Kylo feels he should be awarded the keys to the goddamn city for not clocking Hux straight across his greasy face for his prank. 

“Yeah, you’re real fucking cute. I’m surprised you paid her.”

Hux’s self-preservation seemed to dance on a string as he let out a harsh bark of laughter. He’d had the absolute gall to take vacation time after this little stunt, which Palpatine graciously allowed. It was a wonder though that he hadn’t stayed to watch the chaos unfold… Clearly he’d known he would have gotten thrown from the roof if he had.

“How could I possibly resist?”

Kylo’s chair creaks under pressure as his hands grip it tightly.

“I suppose this means it's open season now, huh?” A razor sharp smile twists Kylo’s lips and Hux has the decency to look mildly concerned.

A myriad of nasty, vengeful ideas flutter hazily through his mind like sparrows. Putting laxatives in his coffee, paying an intern he was fucking to put nair in his shampoo, cutting the brakes on his car…

“So, are you going back?” Hux snaps, clearly trying to distract Kylo from his wicked plans by humiliating him more. “Your schedule has you booked for a nondescript appointment every Wednesday…”

Kylo shoots him a scathing look. “No, I’m going to an  _ actual _ massage therapist.” 

A bold-faced lie.

He’d concocted such a ridiculous scheme that Kylo could feel his ears begin to burn at the very thought. Just one night prior, he’d manically reached for his phone and set it into motion. Every week he had taken an hour from his Wednesday afternoon, titling it  _ MASSAGE _ in big bold letters to divert suspicion. He’d even scoped out a legitimate and highly rated parlor off of Yelp and added the name of the masseuse, just to be safe. 

He then, tentatively, sent Rey a text the next morning, asking when she would next be available for an appointment. He’d picked a random afternoon, the time he usually took for lunch. 

It would divert attention, in theory.

And it was absolutely fucking  _ insane _ .

But he had to see her again. 

There was just something about that little brunette he couldn’t shake. She frequented his thoughts so constantly it was like she’d taken out a lease in the largest part of his brain.

Though he could touch  _ others _ with relative ease, Kylo couldn’t stomach the thought of hands on him. He had only agreed to Hux’s stupid suggestion because it was paid for and he didn’t want to be rude (to the masseuse, of course). He’d never had a massage before. Why bother when his massively expensive Osaki massage chair could abate the knots in his back from the comfort of his own home. The swift and clinical touch of a doctor was tolerable, the slow and incessant contact of a massage made his stomach roll.

It took hours of self-talk and a near-panic attack to drive from his office to her studio, dread chilling his blood with every block as he imagined the feeling of a stranger's hands gliding across his body.

She had seemed innocuous enough upon entering the room and he’d been a complete fucking asshole. He was  _ nervous _ , he reasoned. Not a good reason though. Not when that little sparkle in her eyes had dimmed a fraction at his unfriendliness.

Kylo was sure part of his soul fled his body though the moment she confessed her true profession. His chest tightened painfully and it took years of self-discipline to not sprint right to his car. He raged and swore and snapped at the poor girl until the shock wore off and the sickening weight of humiliation took its place. It was only his ego and the barely concealed look of vulnerability on the girl’s face kept him rooted to the spot.

Why? He still didn’t know. The untold numbers of despondent faces that sought his help day in and day out had rendered him immune. Or so he thought. 

So he kicked off his shoes, removed his blazer, and tried his hardest to dissociate. How it could be that the moment she touched him, his anxiety seemed to dissipate was beyond him, too. She calmed him like he was a frightened horse, keeping her hands firm and the tone of her voice light.

It was nothing short of a miracle.

So, naturally, he jerked off the second he got home like an absolute freak. 

Hux lets out a ‘tsk’ and gives him a look that says he doesn’t believe him at all. Kylo busies himself with the stack of paperwork on his desk to divert the attention away from his personal life.

“What’s top priority?” Kylo asks, quick to change the subject. The last thing he needed was for the man to pry. He was a goddamn bloodhound when it came to gossip.

“The Tiures.”

Kylo lets his head fall back against his chair with an ardent curse. 

The ‘M’ word was off limits in the firm (resulting in instant termination and blacklisting) but the Tiure’s ticked every single box when it came to the definition of  _ Mafia _ . They even had a wikipedia page dedicated to their supposed mischief over the decades, not to mention several dozen magazine editorials and TMZ articles recounting their gruesome deeds.

In spite of that, Palpatine ensured his firm did everything in their power to keep the Tiures’ appearance squeaky clean. Few of its members ever spent more than six months in prison and the number of lawsuits they won against anyone that challenged them was innumerable.

It was a dirty, thankless job, but at least Kylo got paid.

Slipping a pair of horn-rimmed glasses over the bridge of his nose, Kylo’s heart sinks further as he gazes over the documents. “Jabba needs to put a fucking leash on his goddamn son,” He said as he flipped through the papers. Rotta was a menace to society. A grade-A piece of shit that Kylo had, unfortunately, represented a number of times over his career. From assault to theft and nearly everything in between. It was assault again, it seemed. 

“Poe Dameron represents the opposition…”

Kylo’s stomach drops to his feet.

He doesn’t need to look at Hux to know that an oily, grinch-like smile had spread across his lips. He truly did enjoy ruining his day above all things.

“Why, yes! That won’t be a problem, will it,  _ Ren _ ?” 

“No, of course not.” Kylo growls.

“Good,” Hux raps his pen against the top of Kylo’s desk in a manner an extremely irritating manner to gain his attention “Because Palpatine also wanted me to remind you of the Christmas party,”

Cold sweat breaks across his brow.

“The  _ what _ ?”

“The party, Ren. Empire and Resistance always throw a joint Christmas party as a show of goodwill. You’ll be attending this year per Palpatine’s specific request.” Hux informs him in a tone that suggests he’s speaking to a toddler.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding—” 

Hux butts in before Kylo can finish. “ _ Details _ have been uploaded to your calendar. Don’t forget to practice your smile in the mirror.” 

He can’t stand the thought of being in the same room with his mother and her little gaggle of goslings. 

It wasn’t the fact that they were direct competition that irked him so. There were plenty of more formidable oppositions in this city that didn’t piss him off nearly as much. It was the holier-than-thou attitude they toted that made him see red. 

His mother's influence made them hate him, even before he chose to work for the person she despised most in the world. He could feel their disapproval when he’d storm from her office as a teen, having been suspended yet again and forced to withstand her bitter disappointment. He could hear their hushed voices wondering how a boy with such good parents could be so troubled and horrible, how sad it was, how their beloved Mrs. Organa deserved so much better than him, and how they finally got their wish when Poe Dameron interned and Kylo was shipped off to boot camp, to his uncle.

Violent and angry, Kylo had been all but gift-wrapped when he arrived at Luke’s doorstep. He’d had a promising go, and hell, it had even felt good for awhile. He enjoyed the routine and the brutality of it all. It allowed him to shut off his mind and just  _ be _ .

At least, until the last night. He’d been discharged after an accident and sent right back home to his parents twice as broken.

Kylo had wallowed for a while as he healed, until he got the fateful call that changed the course of his life yet again. His grandfather’s old business partner offered him a position in his law firm in exchange for getting his shit together. It was mostly out of spite, the reason he’d accepted. Poe Dameron had been in much the same boat as he: injured in his prime and sent home. Leia had offered him a job and he became the new golden child…

Fucking Dameron. He’d be at that godawful party too. The sight of him and his mother joking and laughing made bile rise in Kylo’s throat. Considering they barely kept from shredding each other in court, it didn’t bode well for them to be at a party together.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be right there to hold your hand.” Hux coos as he rises to his feet, stalking out of the office before Kylo can chuck anything at him.

—

  
  


Time slows to such a brutal crawl that Kylo barely sees the case files before him. The names run together on the page, puddling into splotches of black and blue ink. 

At least his headache was gone. 

Small blessings.

He’d taken to staring at the snow beyond his stark office, hazily watching each fat flake dance past the wide expanse of windows.

Did Rey like snow? Or did she find it intolerable like he did? He might be stereotyping but in the hour they’d known each other, he gauged that she was the type of person that found beauty in everything. The hippy dippy nonsense she had curated in her space at the very least generated the assumption that she  _ tried _ , anyway. He imagined she’d try to find something nice about the gray slush piled high on the sidewalks. Maybe the endless, suffocating blanket of clouds, or the bone aching cold.

An absent hand massages his chest, a phantom pain flaring up at the very thought of the frigid weather beyond. Even the twisted scars that hid his bones twinged in displeasure, in spite of the space heater humming and glowing beside him. 

Kylo almost let himself spiral there. Feeling the sudden crush of steel across his torso, heaps of snow and blood that stained it. His uncle’s voice yelling through the murky dark and Tai beside him in the passenger seat of the ATV…

He blinked hard, glancing down at his phone for the time and shaking off the remnants of the cold.

It’s a good hour before his appointment, but still. There could be traffic. The winter weather was treacherous and unpredictable. The city was prone to car accidents. He’d give himself plenty of time to get there. It would be incredibly unprofessional of him to be late, or miss the appointment all together. 

He just doesn’t want to be late, he tells himself again and again as he yanks on his jacket and nearly tramples Mitaka on his way out. 

Kylo makes it to her studio in ten minutes, unaware of the speed he’s traveling as he wonders what the fuck is happening to him for the millionth time.

So he sits in his BMW for a solid 50 minutes, parking a block and a half away so no one would see him. With the engine off it takes next to no time for his breath to materialize before him. He sits there like a great bird, huddled in his coat and glaring at the building down the street, waiting to see who would exit before slipping in himself.

When her door swings open, Rey’s smile is as disarming as it had been the first time. It could easily put the bleak winter sun to shame in its brilliance and Kylo’s momentarily stunned. She could be a model for those Crest white strip commercials that traverse across his TV screen in the middle of the night, he thinks. Which is absolutely  _ insane _ and he instantly wants to kick himself. 

_ Her teeth are too big for her face. There, that’s better. _

“Welcome back!” Rey chirps, motioning him inside with a peppy little bounce that makes chestnut locks dance around her face. 

_ Goddamn it. _

“Thanks.” he tries to keep his tone even as he slips inside her studio. He can’t help but throw a backwards glance over his shoulder, nervously scanning the stairwell like an absolute fool. 

“How are you this week, Mister Ren?” Rey asks as she takes his coat and hangs it on the rack. Kylo nearly forgets to answer as he watches her move, the curve of her legs in her multicolored pastel leggings nearly making him weak at the knees.

“Wh-? Oh, fine. Thank you for asking.” As an afterthought, he tries to keep his tone casual as he adds, “Please, call me Kylo.”

“Kylo.” It rolls deliciously off of Rey’s tongue as she tests it out like she’s sampling a new flavor of ice cream. 

He looks anywhere but her face then, certain he’ll say something stupid if he doesn’t. 

She’s decorated the little bonsai tree in the corner of the room, minuscule pinecones and tiny red and green ornaments adorning the equally tiny branches. It was cute; a word he was using far too often now where she was concerned. But no other word described her better. 

Kylo shucks off his coat and places it in Rey’s waiting arms, watching with hawk-like interest as she hangs it on the rack. She decided to forgo last week's sweater for a henley that clung deliciously to her curves. 

He’s quick to avert his gaze when she turns again, quickly looking down to toe off his damp Armani loafers and settle atop the cushions. He sits upright this time in some semblance of dignity. 

“Another massage, then?” 

“Yes, that would be good.”

He really needs to set up boundaries of some sort or he’s going to lose it. His head is still a little swimmy from the pill he had taken and the soppy part of his brain wants to lay his head in her lap and let her play with his hair. 

He sits gingerly atop the mound of cushions she’d arranged on the floor, stretching his legs out before him. It felt just as humiliating as it had the first time. He wasn’t used to lowering himself for anyone, least of all strangers. 

Rey kneels at his back and says in her lovely low voice, “I’m going to put my hands on your shoulders now,” just as she had before. He’s grateful, he thinks, that she’s so considerate.

He just wishes it was enough to keep his muscles from tensing as they do. 

Her presence is comforting in a way he’s never known. Not from ex-girlfriends, not from anyone. He almost feels like he could relax someday. Like his mind just might allow him the luxury of not overthinking. It races in circles like a dog chasing its tail. He swings between anxiety, some warped form of desire, and dull likeness of comfort. Not today, but someday. The press of her slender fingers against his neck eases the worst of the tension. 

It would be a lie to say he isn’t grateful that she warns him every time before her hands rest gently at his neck. He can’t stand abrupt and unasked for contact. He would flinch even when his mother would caress his face or his father would clap him on the back. 

Last week, she worked with keen precision. This week is no different, though he feels more aware of her presence. She is so warm he has to physically restrain himself from inching closer to her.

It’s exquisite agony; the longing and repulsion. 

He wasn’t some sort of celibate monk. He’d had a good handful of sexual experiences, half of them fully-clothed trysts. He could give and he could take, but he could not receive. Not from anyone.

“So what do you do for a living, Mister Ren?” she asks him.

Kylo freezes for half a second as he considers the best answer. Telling the truth was out of the question. He isn’t a man that cares what others think very often, but the thought of Rey’s lip curling in disgust made his gut churn.

“Law.” He rumbles .

“Oh? That’s a noble career. Do you enjoy it?” 

_ Oh you know, I uncage the worst of the worst and allow them to wreak havoc across our city. It’s nothing, though. _

He can feel the tips of his ears going red. A brief shrug is the answer he gives her, unable to speak as his throat constricts guiltily. At least he’s self-aware enough to know he’s a shitty person. That had to count for something, right? And there  _ had _ been a handful of people he represented that were truly innocent. They were few and far between, but they did exist.

An awkward silence falls, one he feels compelled to fill.

“Have you always wanted to be a…” Kylo’s massive hand raises to vaguely gesture at their surroundings.  _ That _ word still feels undignified on his tongue so he doesn’t say it

Rey, on the other hand, has no such qualms and cheerfully says, “Not always. It was just something I stumbled across and it felt right. You know?”

No he didn’t. Had anything ever felt  _ right _ in his life?

Well, besides this right now. Whatever this was.

He wants her to keep talking, but he doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to begin asking her about herself. It’s like his brain has completely abandoned him. He just wants to hear her speak. 

Instead he keeps his mouth shut, swallowing every childish question he considers asking. What’s her favorite color? What did she have for breakfast? Does she like the snow? Does she know the effect she has on him?

Rey seems blissfully unaware of the numerous battles he was fighting at once, kneading away at his tense muscles like she was a baker and he a lump of dough. 

When she reaches a spot midway down his back, he lets out a groan and her hands freeze. “Too much?”

“No… Just… uh.. it’s fine.”

He doesn’t sound convincing, even to his own ears. He sounds like he’s in agony, which he is. Certainly not for the reason she’s thinking though. 

Another raspy moan falls from his lips and she stops once more.

“Are you sure-“

“Yes!” He cuts her off with force. Her voice is so sweet and so low that it's all he can do not to grind his hips against the pillows beneath 

Hesitantly, Rey begins yet again, and he can feel her eyes boring into the back of him like a physical sensation.

“So, uh-“ Kylo clears his throat, and squirms a bit, determined to ignore the heat that was coursing through him. They had twenty or so minutes left this session, he could make it. “Do you… have any other source of income or is this it?”

“I wait tables sometimes,” She tells him. “and I work on cars.”

“Is that something you enjoy?” the waitressing he got. The cars? Not so much. Her aesthetic suggested she’d protest fossil fuel and walk cross-country.

“The cars? Yes. I think if I wasn’t doing this, I’d quite like to open my own shop. I found an old 70’s mustang that I’ve been tinkering with for a few years now. Still doesn’t run yet but she was my home for a while. . .”

An unwitting smile tugs at his lips as she chatters away. It reminds him a bit of Han, which was precisely what he didn’t want to be thinking about when his dick was twitching in his pants every time Rey dug her fingers into his back. 

The man had never shut up about how much he loved that stupid Winnebago of his. The Falcon was a piece of shit that could barely make it down the block by the time Kylo was six. His father never gave up on it, though. Twenty years later he was still monkeying with the stupid thing. . .

“That’s — that’s great.” He says lamely, breath catching in his throat, willing himself to calm the fuck down. Kylo couldn’t help but wonder if she knew, or if she was just being kind as the pressure of her hands slowed, almost sensuous, against him now. 

He’s torn between a panic attack and unmitigated horniness when the soft hum of her phone’s alarm alerts them to the end of the session. They’re both flushed and slightly out of breath. The hazel of Rey’s eyes seem extra bright as she meets his. They clamber gracelessly to their feet, staring at each other before Rey clears her throat.

“Would you like to schedule for next week…?” 

She looks worried that he might refuse, like every session would potentially be the last.

Kylo watches her tuck her lip between her teeth, the pink of her skin sending his blood rushing straight for his cock. He needed to get out of there, and fast. Self control had never been a virtue and he could feel what little he did possess slipping through his fingers the longer he looked at her. 

“If you can fit me in.” He murmurs.

The shy smile she gives him is his breaking point. He can’t even remember what day it was and blurts out, “I don’t have a preference, whenever is fine.” Like his weeks weren’t packed to bursting with meetings upon meetings and hours and hours in court.

Rey smirks at him and looks down at the calendar on her phone. “Okay, Mister Ren. I’ll let you know how the week is looking.”

Kylo gives her a brusk nod and blindly yanks on his shoes and coat and leaves without a backwards glance. 

He stumbles through the snow to his BMW, dropping his keys twice before yanking the door open and flopping into the front seat with a huff. He takes a moment to collect himself. His heart is fit to beat out of his chest. With white knuckles he grips the steering wheel tighter, pressing his forehead to it for a moment before starting the car and tearing off down the street. 

His cock is painfully hard, pressing against the fly of his slacks.

Kylo can only pray he doesn’t get pulled over. The thought tempers him enough to ease up on the gas.

He lives halfway across the city and the drive feels particularly long that afternoon. Fuck the rest of work that day. He wasn’t remotely prepared to face anyone in the office anymore. He wanted to bask in the pseudo-relaxation he felt.

He also wanted — no,  _ needed _ to jerk off.

He’s angry at himself for whatever sway she had over him just by existing. It was even worse than he’d initially thought. This was not a good look for him. He made hardened criminals weep like children regularly and here he was going to pieces like a granola bar for a woman he’s met twice.

Maybe she had some sort of aphrodisiac gas pumping through her studio? 

Kylo contemplates the curve of her ass as he sits at a red light, burned into his mind as he reaches down to adjust his steadily tightening slacks. Maybe, just maybe, he could convince his body to give him a break. Every single inch of him  _ desperately _ wants to hold her to him. To feel every single inch of her pressed against him. 

A deep groan reverberates around his car as he slams his head against the leather of his seat.

With unnecessary force he zooms in his parking garage, grabbing his suitcase from the trunk of his car and stomping towards the entrance. The doorman scrambles upright, back stiff like Luke was at his back calling for attention. Kylo nearly winces but keeps his mouth tight shut as he offers a stiff nod. 

His condo took up the entire top floor of the building, including the roof. He barely noticed the panoramic view of the city from the glass windows  –– not that anything could be seen through the snow; it was like someone had painted over the windows with white some days.

Throwing his briefcase onto a sofa, Kylo strides towards his master bedroom, loosening his tie on the way. He savagely strips himself of his suit. Tom Ford would weep if he saw how carelessly he was tossing it and his shoes across the room.

He ignores his cock, bobbing before him; bright red and throbbing as he makes his way towards the bathroom.

A nice, long, freezing-cold shower would do the trick. If the water didn’t shock him back into reality, the horrific flashbacks accompanying it certainly would!

Kylo walks right into the shower and turns on the water, allowing the freezing cold spray to hit him square in the face. Unsurprisingly it feels awful and he yells out a garbled  _ ‘fuck’  _ as his skin begins to go numb.

His cock is resiliently hard, no matter the frigid water or the traumatic memories he tried to dredge up in an attempt to make it flag.

His brain had forgone the lease and built a shrine to Rey, one that took up every square inch of his subconscious. The smell of her perfume was his incense, the gleam in her eyes his votive candles. Kylo is utterly helpless at the thought of her and it infuriates him beyond words.

The hand he wraps around his cock is rough, intending to get through this shameful act as quickly as possible. 

Behind closed lids, he sees Rey before him, dark hair plastered to pink cheeks. She would press tender kisses along his chest, across the deep scars that girdled him. He would not cringe from her as she did so.

His thumb runs over his weeping slit as his hips buck into his hand. Imaginary Rey would lap up that little bead with soft, kitten licks. She would whisper how good he tasted as her small hand stroked his length. Her tongue would slip from candy pink lips to drag across the underside of his cock before drawing him deep into her mouth. He would twine his fingers through her wet hair and guide her along his shaft. She would moan and squirm at his feet as she bobbed her head.

Kylo can see her hazel eyes in his mind as she does this, blinking up at him with those long doe lashes. 

He watches as his cum is carried off down the drain, his stomach leaden with guilt and desire. 

He was in so much fucking trouble. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ben Solo loves trouble send tweet!!
> 
> Thank y’all for tuning in! This chapter was a bit of a doozy as I tried to figure out how best to describe a lot of what I feel with my own struggles with touch aversion. It’s a wild and contradictory ride. The main thing I’m trying to portray here is that Ben struggles with gentleness and intimacy in any form (be it sexual, platonic, etc) but can handle touch that is firm and “unfamiliar”. It's weird an and lot. 
> 
> As we progress in the story I'm gonna make a big attempt at cutting chapter length so it (hopefully) doesn't take me 10 years to write them out. Fingers crossed! lol
> 
> Join me on **[Twitter](http://twitter.com/rey_exe)** for incoherent ramblings!

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  **What is Cuddle Therapy?**   
>  [ Find out here! ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9hgTL92OtxQ)
> 
> **Cuddle therapy faqs:**   
>  [un](https://cuddlist.com/faq/)   
>  [ deux](https://www.certifiedcuddlers.com/certification/)
> 
> **Touch Aversion/Haphephobia**  
> [un](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Haphephobia)  
> [deux](https://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/320763.php)  
> 
> 
> Thank you so much to my girl [Ellie](https://twitter.com/celestialrey) for beta-ing and helping me hammer out plot details the last year and to [Chelsea](https://brightrey.tumblr.com) for cheering me on and inspiring me to get my shit together and post this.
> 
> Y'all can catch me crying on twitter @ [rey_exe](https://twitter.com/rey_exe)! Come and say hi/get occasional updates on how writing is or isn't going.


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